


Chemistry

by SilverMiko



Series: Sight Unseen [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lab Partners, Sherlolly - Freeform, Slow Burn, Uni!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9654047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMiko/pseuds/SilverMiko
Summary: Molly is studying her Master's degree at University of Edinburgh, and meets a new, odd student in the chemistry lab who makes her feel rather unlike herself.





	

Notes: Uni!lock Sherlolly, interludes over a year in academia. 

 

“You’re a graduate chemist, can’t you just work it out?”

Edinburgh, Scotland  
1999

 

She’d heard vague rumors about a new transfer from the other chem students; that he was as terrifying as he was brilliant, but as Molly Hooper made her way to the lab late one evening, she gave no thought to those rumors or anything else but getting ahead of her schoolwork before the weekend came.  
A slight shiver trembled through her. It was bloody cold in the School of Chemistry building tonight, but then again it was also early October. She still had a hard time getting used to how much colder it was up north and wished she’d thrown a coat over her hooded jumper that proudly displayed the university’s logo. She hadn’t noticed as she wrote up notes in the coffee shop, but definitely noticed on the walk back to school.  
It was quiet in the building and even though she was tired, she loved the calm and stillness of working late in the evening with science as her sole companion. She was a people person through and through but when it came to her academic work and getting down to the nitty-gritty she preferred things...quieter. Perhaps it was why she was thinking of going into pathology but first thing’s first- get through this chemistry class.  
As she neared the lab, she heard something beyond the soft shuffle of her footsteps and it sounded like...violin music?  
Walking through the door she passed through thousands of times she saw something new and alien in the lab: a tall, thin man with a wild shock of dark, curly hair hunched over a microscope as classical musical blasted from a dodgy looking stereo propped onto one of the chairs.  
She stood still for a moment, unsure of if she should say something, but it was obvious he was another student probably doing late night work such as she. It wasn’t as if she had claim over the lab at night anyway. Still, she mumbled a “hello” and set her books and bag on other workbench, setting her cup of coffee down and starting her usual ritual of preparing her station.  
“Go away.”  
She paused in ruffling through her bag to grab her notebook, wondering if she had heard that deep voice correctly.  
“I-I’m sorry did you say something?”  
He stood up straight and spun on his heels, facing her head on. She swallowed, hard. He was handsome in an unconventional sort of way, with piercing light eyes and some of the sharpest cheekbones she’d ever seen on a bloke. He’d probably be even more handsome were his mouth not turned down into a displeased frown.  
“I said, go away. I can’t work with anyone around, too many loud thoughts and predilection for inane chatter. Lab’s closed.”  
She blinked, not sure what to say to that, but feeling annoyance rise in her. She was a nice person, really, but she was getting tired and her night was far from over. Who was he to decide she had to go?  
“I’m sorry but you can’t just kick me out? I’m a student here too and I’ve got a lot to get done. You don’t get to just claim the lab to yourself!”  
He moved closer, his eyes moving over her with startling precision as if he was assessing her. It was unnerving.  
“22 year old, medical student, or will be, from the look of the other books in your bag. From the lines forming around your eyes and the ink stains on your fingers, you’ve been hitting the books hard. A dedicated student then, Master’s degree, I take it? Yes, from the complete lack of caring in your dress and the bags under your eyes you’ve been pulling a lot of late nights. Good thing you’re single then, because you definitely haven’t give one wit to your appearance or trying to attract anyone.”  
Her jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing. What...what...the….fu….  
“You’re him, the one everyone is talking about.”  
Oh, everyone was right, he was brilliant. Startlingly so.  
He gave a tight smirk.  
“Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Molly Hooper,” she said, flatly, walking over to him slowly and, to his obvious surprise, tossing the lukewarm contents of her cup all over his crisp white button up shirt and black trousers.  
She quickly gathered up her things and strode to the door, stopping for a moment.  
“Goodnight, Holmes,” she said, disdainfully, and forgetting all about the cold as she practically stomped her way back to her small flat on Marchmont Rd.  
Had she stayed a fraction longer, she’d probably enjoy his extended moment of shock.  
It was a rare thing for someone to one-up Sherlock Holmes and as he attempted to return to his work, he found the image of the angry, tiny female with the chin-length brunette bob and sloppy fashion had seared itself into his brain for some reason.  
Perhaps, he thought dismissively, it was just the fumes getting to him.

***  
The pub was loud and full of students and locals who had nothing else better to do on Halloween except for getting pissed and eating chips. A lot of the science students favored the place for it’s medical decor, but more so the food was decent. Molly sat with her friend from anatomy class, bemoaning the many names of bones in the body and stumbling over the words three pints in. It was good to have a break, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling she ought to be studying. There was so much going on that she had to keep atop of, least of the latest turn of events that one could only call vexing.  
She’d manage to keep her on campus run ins with that blasted Holmes to a minimum, but she still heard wind of his academic prowess and admittedly she did find that part of him interesting. Maybe even almost admirable if he wasn’t such a cad.  
Lord, she sounded like something out a bad romance novel, but this certainly wasn’t a love story.  
“Pence for your thoughts, Mols?”  
“Hmm?”  
She looked over to her friend, Meena, and shook her head.  
“Not much going on up there past pint 2, I’m afraid.”  
Meena raised an eyebrow and if one could skeptically eat vinegar-soaked chip, it’d be her.  
“Oi, taking the piss won’t work on me. You look tense. Don’t tell me you’re feeling  
all guilty for having a good time for once instead of being cooped up in your lab. It’s Halloween, Mols, and we’re going to have proper fun tonight! Besides, you look adorable. Own it!”  
Molly gave a brief glance down at her light blue nurse costume, that was far more tight-fitting than she was used to but Meena had insisted and had also worked her magic to make Molly’s normally pin-straight bob flick out at the ends.  
‘“I am having fun, promise!”  
But even Molly didn’t believe her own words.  
“You know what you need?”  
“I swear to God if you say a ‘good shag’ again…”  
“What?” Meena said, biting another chip in half and waving the other end at Molly, “I mean doesn’t it release all those happy, relaxation hormones! You’re burning the candle on both ends, mate, and I get it, I do. I know stuff’s been rough lately but come on, Mols, you can live it up for a night. Just go over to some bloke at the bar and at least have a snog.”  
“It’s not that easy for me.”  
“You look amazing, you’re young, and uni is the time to do stupid shite before you become a world-renowed doctor. Besides, it beats getting into another row with Curly Q.”  
“Please do not even bring him up.”  
“Honestly, we came out here to have a good time and I’m feeling so let down for you right now.”  
Molly felt frustration rise to the surface. She knew Meena could be pushy, and sometimes she needed it, and maybe it was all the warm beer and stress mounting but Molly finally slapped her hands on the table and groaned.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake, fine! If it’ll shut you up so I can finish my beer.”  
Molly stood up, wobbling a bit, and marched her way towards the bar briefly glancing at the men around. Too old, too young, with a girl, with a guy... a ha! She saw a tall man wearing what looked like a Phantom of the Opera mask standing against a wooden column, alone. With liquid courage and a fair bit of wanting to get it over so she could finish her meal in peace, Molly made quick steps over to the tall Phantom and chirped out, “Oi!” before rising up on her toes and crushing her lips against his.  
It was awkward for sure, but his lips were warm even though they were still. She could feel his mouth twitch for a moment and as he started to respond she could taste something spicy and warm. She broke her mouth away and whipped her head back towards Meena, hands on hip.  
“Happy now?!” she shouted over the noise.  
Meena was laughing with her whole body and giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. At least that was over and now maybe, just maybe, Meena would back off and Molly could attempt to enjoy the rest of her night.  
“Well, Hooper, I was unaware you had that in you.”  
Molly stilled, mouth popping open into an “O” as she recognized that voice, that deep voice, and turned her head fractionally towards the Phantom.  
He reached a familiar slim hand up, and raised the mask to the top of his head.  
“Trick or treat, as they say.”  
“Oh my god! Oh my god!”  
Molly leapt away and back to her booth, grabbing her purse and without even a goodbye raced out of the pub and our onto Forrest Road. She was halfway through The Meadows before she slowed her pace down to a walk, catching her breath. She crossed her arms and paced across the walkway, ignore others passing by as she fidgeted, her thoughts a wild mess.  
“Molly! What the bloody hell??”  
She saw Meena hobbling towards her as best as she could in heels, looking confused and a bit mad.  
“Meena, gosh, I’m sorry. I just panicked, I had to get out of there.”  
“Why? Was his breath that bad or something?”  
Molly groaned, hanging her head.  
“Meeeeena seriously, this isn’t funny.”  
Meena still giggled.  
“Honestly, Mols, it was just a kiss.”  
“Oh godddddd, no, it wasn’t, Meena,” Molly said, in all earnest as if it was life or death, “I just snogged Sherlock Holmes!”  
It took every ounce of Molly’s strength not to throttle Meena as her friend collapsed in a fit of giggles, her laughter barking across the park. As she licked her lips, the taste came back to her again. Clove on his lips. Cigarettes. No pumpkin pie for her anytime soon. 

***

She’d managed to avoid him for the rest of the semester, thrilled when winter break came, and hoped beyond hope she could keep the streak up as spring semester started.  
But the universe had other, alphabetically-sorted plans.  
“Holmes, Hooper, you’re paired up. I expect the best work from our alleged two top students.”  
Sherlock Holmes, the man she had been trying to desperately avoid, was now her lab partner for the rest of the term. Could no named Honorsworth or something have also enrolled? She took a steadying breath. She needed the grade, she could be professional. Cordial even.  
“Hooper, or should I say Nurse Hooper?”  
“That was a b-bloody mistake and let’s never talk about it again, please.”  
“Consider it deleted.”  
“Come again?”  
“Deleted. Any useless information not worth keeping I simply delete from my brain.”  
“Like a computer?”  
“Exactly.”  
She should be happy that that was that as far as Halloween night went, but she felt oddly prickly that he found her kiss so inconsequential that he’d simply wipe it from his mind.  
“Holmes, we did not start off on the best foot,” she began.  
“Hooper I am not really interested in trivial matters such as apologies.”  
“I wasn’t apologizing! What I’m trying to say is we’re going to be stuck together so if you could just be less....you, we should be able to work together as long as focus on the experiments.”  
“Less me?”  
She looked up, pointing her pencil at him.  
“No deductions about me, please.”  
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes so still, and then he nodded.  
“Thank you,” she murmured.  
Really, she was a nice person and usually much more composed but something about this man really seemed to bring out some terrible traits in her. She should make some attempt to be friendly, but it felt hard given his propensities for speaking so bluntly with no concept of how sharp his words came off. Perhaps it was why he always seemed to be alone.  
Which made her wonder…  
“Holmes, what were you doing at the pub that night?”  
“Meeting my dealer.”  
“Your...oh, very funny,” she said, giving little thought to his poor attempt at a joke. If he didn’t want to say, it was his own business.

 

***

“Are you high right now????”

As he loped his way around the sidewalk with less grace than his usual gait, Molly furrowed her brows and stopped in her tracks, grabbing him by the elbow.  
“Sorry, what was the question, Hooper?”  
She looked up at him, at his limp curls, glassy eyes, and the pallor of his skin.  
“Jesus Christ, Holmes, you are! Have you lost your mind?”  
“No, opposite really. You seem stressed, Hooper.”  
“I’m stressed? You’re high on god know’s what when we have an experiment to conduct in an hour. Why did you even call me for lunch in the first place?”  
“Why did you come?”  
She blinked up at him. Good question. His email had surprised her. He never asked her for lunch or dinner or coffee, not that she expected it anyway. They had a neat arrangement: work only, interacting mostly in the lab or class. If they happened to be in the pub at the same time they didn’t speak unless it was to catch up on notes. It was never social between them. So when he asked her to lunch, it was surprising.  
“I was hungry,” she replied, lamely.  
“Yes, I suppose you were considering the five pounds you’ve dropped over the past fortnight.”  
“And what did I say about deductions?”  
“Sorry, thought you wanted me to notice.”  
“Holmes, why lunch? Or were you already so out of your mind on drugs you thought it’d be a laugh?”  
“No, I am not, as they say, taking the piss out of you. I can’t remember why I emailed you, honestly.”  
She rubbed her face.  
“Go home, Holmes. You’re no good to me right now.”  
“Hooper, I’m perfectly able to perform something so elementary as our chemistry work.”  
“I won’t have it! I mean it, Holmes,” she said, more gently this time, “go home and sober up.”  
His posture slouched. It was the first time she’d seen him look so defeated.  
“Fine then.”  
He shoved his hands into his denim pockets and began to leave.  
Molly watched him go, her thoughts fighting, and she closed her eyes and sighed.  
“Holmes!”  
He stopped and turned to look at her, not closing the distance between them.  
“What now, more lecturing?”  
She shook her head.  
“Should I call someone for you?”  
He raised an eyebrow.  
“There’s no one to call for me in Scotland, Hooper. Lone wolf and all.”  
“Then...if you need anything…”  
He rolled his eyes and waved off. Molly wasn’t sure why she had bothered or even cared. He was a grown adult, he was only her lab partner. She shouldn’t feel compelled to look out for him and it wasn’t as if he was ever kind to her except for commenting that she was the least stupid of all their class. Perhaps it was because she understood, on some level. Yea, she had Meena and few mates from class, but her family was hundreds of miles south in Richmond right now. Or she was just projecting her slight loneliness onto him, because he certainly seemed unbothered by it so why should she worry?  
She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear the cry of warning as a solid figure on a skateboard collided into her. She fell, and in more ways than one that afternoon as a boy with a charming Italian accent apologized profusely then offered to take her for ‘espresso.’

***

Molly paused in her notes, looking to her left at Holmes as he spoke, not bothering to lift his head from the microscope.  
“What do you mean I’m wasting my time? Franco is perfectly lovely!”  
They’d been going out for the past two months, ever since he accidentally knocked her down that January day.  
“Yes, exceedingly so it seemed. Popular with the girls, I’m sure.”  
She set her pencil down.  
“What do you mean by that?”  
He looked over briefly for a moment, quickly assessing as usual, then returned to stare at the glass slides.  
“Nothing. You said no deductions, sorry.”  
Molly frowned more. Now she knew something was up, he never apologized; not even when he showed up to labs late lately, not even when he banged on her door at 2am while on whatever it was he was on, yet again forgetting why he came to see her. She had plonked him down on her couch to let him sleep it off, then flung an ice cold flannel onto his face in the morning and told him to get it together and go home. They had class in three hours. He never apologized once. And now, a mumbled sorry?  
“No, it’s not nothing. Tell me then, because I know you wouldn’t be fibbing anyway.”  
“Hooper…”  
“Tell me!”  
He sucked in a breath and looked her steady in the eye.  
“The other night when he came to collect you for your date he had a faint knicking of teeth marks on his lower neck and a smear of glittery lip gloss. He also had on more than the obnoxious body spray he fancies, Chanel No 5 I believe and I know it’s not yours. You wear Clinique Happy when you have dates.”  
“Are you saying he’s cheating on me?”  
“Like I said, waste of your time.”  
She looked down at her pencil, staring at it hard. Sometimes Franco would suddenly be busy and they rarely spent time at his flat, always hers and always near campus. She thought of his dark eyes and quick smiles. He seemed so sweet and charming…  
“Besides it’s not like you were in love with him. Just killing time.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Hooper I’ve spent five days a week for the past three months in your company, day in and day out, and it would be more if you weren’t always so busy during the weekends, and while you’ve briefly mentioned your wayward boyfriend it’s never been with the same enthusiasm for our work. No, I’d say you felt you needed something else because that’s what everyone tells you, like your friend Nina…”  
“Meena,” she corrected.  
“Meena. You thought you needed something more in your life so the first thing that smiled at you and showed you kindness turned your head. I don’t blame you, we all need a release. I’m sure your pride is affronted at his straying but your heart? No, that’s perfectly intact.”  
She stared at him, wide eyed.  
“No need to thank me,” he murmured.  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know, maybe he’s just one of those types of Italian boys I’m sure it’s through no fault of your own.”  
She shook her head.  
“Why’d you have to spoil this for me?”  
She stood up, quietly grabbed her things, and left the lab. She should have never asked him, she thought, balling her fists into her coat pocket. Ignorance was bliss, didn’t they say? But she had asked, wanted to know, and she knew he wouldn’t lie. Perhaps he thought he was helping her. She was a fool for asking and now she had the unpleasant task of breaking up with her boyfriend over the phone. She couldn’t bear to do it face to face, it would feel too much like the world laughing at her.

***

It was a dreary day at King’s Cross station, and Molly yawned as she waited for the train. She swayed a bit at the weight of her weekender bag, rubbing her arms and trying to keep alert. She was exhausted. Between the ride down Friday night, her aunt’s crying, and everyone else trying to act like it was all okay, Molly was feeling more weary than ever. At least she had her books to distract her on the long journey back. The train pulled in and she got on, finding a window seat with a table and pulled out her anatomy book. She kept her teal pea coat and white knit hat on, still feeling a tad chilly as she tried to lose herself into the inner workings of the gastrointestinal system. As they pulled out of the station, the swaying of the train made her feel even more tired. 

Head down, resting on her arms which her propped up on her book, was how he found her. Not that he expected to see her on a train going back to Scotland from London. Sherlock slipped into the empty seat across from her, studied her for a moment, and then slipped away for a couple of minutes and returned.

“Hooper.”  
Molly opened her eyes slowly, feeling a small bit of drool at the corner of her mouth. Where was she? Had she fallen asleep in class?  
“Holmes what? It’s not time for lab.”  
“Hooper wake up.”  
She lifted her head, realizing slowly they were on a train and not at school. And not even in Scotland, either.  
“Oh!”  
She sat up and wiped her mouth, taking her hat that has gone askew off. Her hair crackled with static. The pleasant smell of coffee drifted up to her nostrils and she saw two cups sat before her, one black and one tan with cream.  
“So is this where you go on the weekends? No wonder you weren’t so upset in the end to break up with Francis.”  
“Franco,” she said, looking out the window.  
“Whatever doesn’t matter. Clearly there’s something or someone far more interesting here for you.”  
“Shut up,” she muttered, not sparing him one look.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him assessing. She knew that look so well by now, and she knew what he’d see. The tired, red eyes. The frown lines. If he tried, he’d pick up the smell of chemical cleaning agents.  
“These aren’t happy visits. You’re...sad. Worn out. Smell of hospital. But you’re not sick, no. Someone close to you. Has been for a while.”  
She swallowed the lump in her throat.  
“My dad. Cancer. We were hopeful but it’s not responding to the chemo, it’s spread too much. I’ve been coming down on weekends when I can. I shouldn’t even be going back but my dad won’t have it. He doesn’t want to be a bother when I’m so close to graduating.”  
“You feel guilty.”  
It wasn’t a question.  
“Of course I do! My dad is dying and I should be with him and not faffing about up north.”  
“You aren’t faffing about. Your father is dying and no amount of feeling sorry for yourself is going to change that. It won’t matter in a couple of months and your future will be longer than that. It’s not worth throwing it away.”  
She stiffened. She wanted to be mad, she’d welcome being mad and yet…  
“He said the same. Not in those words, and much cheerier. Dad said to keep at the books. Said he was proud of me and he wouldn’t have me throwing away the year over this. He’s right. You’re right. But still, this is so hard, Holmes. I don’t know how to do this.”  
It was the longest conversation she’d had with him, ever, and the most honest on her end. This was decidedly not business only.  
She could tell he wasn’t sure what to say, as he sipped his black coffee.  
“Have you considered heroin? A seven percent solution is quite nice.”  
Were it any other man, she’d think he was joking. Trying to lighten the mood. But this was Sherlock Holmes, and he was being completely serious.  
She laughed, for the first time in ages.  
If she didn’t know any better, he was smiling in a genuine manner.

***

“Can you please type quieter?”  
His deep voice drawled from her armchair, the rustle of a crisps bag accompanying his request.  
It was late one Wednesday evening, end of April. Finals were looming and their combined lab write up was due next week that would make or break their Chemistry grade. With the experiment part over, they’d taken to her flat to do the write up. Mostly because Holmes didn’t have a computer. Come to think of it, she’d never even seen his flat.  
“Sorry, Holmes, not if we want to get ten pages done tonight. I don’t know about you but I’d really like to sleep in the next two days.”  
“Oh, right. That.”  
“Sleep is a necessary function and after 3-4 days mental facilities really suffer.”  
“Normal people’s, anyway.”  
“Right right.”  
It’s not like he was helping as the typing went, but at least she’d learn after three weeks how to decipher his notes. He really ought to make some sort of Rosetta Stone.  
“When this is over Holmes, you owe me a drink.”  
It was only fair, after all, if she was carrying all the work on this end. His major contributions, notes aside, were raiding her pantry for crisps and then grabbing more from the corner shop next door when he ran out.  
“Are you asking me out on a date?”  
She stopped typing, her fingers faltering.  
“What? No! N-not at all. I-i just figured it’d be a nice way to celebrate finishing our final.”  
“Because I don’t do dates or relationships.”  
“I know, I know. You’re incapable of human emotion. I pay attention too, Holmes. Has that poor girl at the coffee shop ever been able to look you in the eye yet?”  
“No. Shame, too. She made an excellent flat white.”  
“Well you did embarrass pretty badly. All she did was ask you to dinner.”  
“And as I told her, sentiment is a defect and girlfriends aren’t really my thing.”  
“You also told her if she just switched shampoos she’d surely get the coffee roasting smell out and have better luck with the boys.”  
“Oh...was that bad? I thought I was being nice. Besides, I suppose I do owe you one and a drink is fine since it’s just you.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“That you’re you.”  
She furrowed her brows but before she could ask further her phone rang. She walked to the kitchen to answer with a cheery, if not tired, “hello” and was quiet for a long moment as in one phone call her world turned upside down. The receiver dropped to the ground with a thud and she stood frozen in the spot.  
“Hooper?”  
She fell then, to her knees, without a word. She couldn’t process that he had gotten up from the chair and hung the phone back up. Or that he was kneeling in front of her on the kitchen floor saying something. For the moment a roaring buzz filled her ears until his words finally penetrated through.  
“What’s wrong? Hooper!”  
“Hospital,” she said quietly, her mouth feeling oddly hard to move, “Dad. Turn for the worse. Not much time.”  
She knows she’s trembling now but she’s disconnected from realizing entirely what’s happening.  
“Hooper look at me, you’re in emotional shock. What do you need?”  
“Need?”  
It seemed like a simple question, but anything but. She looked at him, into those light blue eyes that seemed the most sincere she’d ever seen, and almost...scared. His hands were lightly gripping her arms.  
“I-i have to go. I don’t know how I’m going to go. I need to get to London tonight. Oh god, the train might take too long, it’s already so late. What am I going to do, Holmes?”  
The tears were coming now. She knew he was probably not sure what to do. He was brilliant when it came to everything, but feelings. Holmes stood up. He’d probably leave now and she couldn’t blame him. But instead of leaving he picked up the phone and dialed.  
“It’s me, I need a favor...yes, really...don’t make this hard it’s an emergency. No, not that. Pick up. Now.”  
He hung the phone up. She wasn’t sure what it meant but before she knew he had grabbed both their coats, shuffled her out the flat, out the door, and into a cab. They were heading outside the city center. A short while later they were at some sort of air strip where a plane waited.  
“I don’t understand. What?”  
“Your chariot awaits, Hooper.”  
“Come aboard.” a man in a suit ordered.  
She looked at him, stunned, with no clue what to say. Whoever he really was, or connections he had, she wondered what this was costing him.  
“Stop thinking so hard. Go. Finals will be fine.”  
She nodded, boarded the plane, and watched from the window as he stayed until the last moment.  
An hour later she was touching down on another dark airstrip, where a tall man with bit of weight on him in a sharp suit stood, carrying an umbrella as if it were a walking stick, waited.  
“And here I was expecting the prodigal son to return. Well, he’s certainly full of surprises, brother mine.”  
“Holmes?” she asked, confused.  
“Yes. Mycroft Holmes. But that wasn’t your question, now was it, Miss Hooper? Come along. It’s rare I get owed a favor by my wayward brother.”  
She followed him to a town car and soon he was dropping her off at the hospital.  
“Um, thank you, Mr. Holmes.”  
“It’s a curious thing, Miss Hooper. My brother loathes calling in favors and yet here we are. You have my condolences.”  
She nodded her head at him and ran inside, where thanks to the strange workings of the Holmes’ brothers, she was able to say goodbye in time.

***

It had been quick, mercifully so. The funeral came and went, and soon her aunt was packing her off back to Edinburgh for graduation. Molly supposed it’d be a while since she’d heard from Aunt Mildred again. Molly had been close to her dad, but the rest of the family, not so much. Oh, they were kind enough but not very warm. Perhaps that’s why she’d picked Scotland for her Master’s, to get away for once.  
She’d emailed her final papers off, she always backed them up to her email account, and tomorrow was graduation. Sherlock had sent off their chem final, with a brief email telling her she was sure to get top marks thanks to his brilliance. He hadn’t said much else to her, and she didn’t bother calling him when she had gotten back. Instead, she put on a simple jumper and walked around the city, down through the Meadows, across George IV street. It was sunny, for once. The castle stood looming in the background upon its rocky perch and Molly took in the sandy colored buildings with their sharp spires, idling along the Royal Mile. When the sun began to set she found herself making the slow, steep walk up Marchmont Road until she went up the stairs to her small flat and sat in her armchair, that didn’t feel as much hers these days. She was grieving, now that she had proper time, and everything felt like it was coming to an end. A knocking on the door woke her up, hours later. She had fallen asleep in the chair in her jeans and jumper from the day before. Meena waited on the other side of the door.  
“Oh god, Mols, I’m so sorry!”  
She was crushed into a hug and soon enough Meena was shooing her inside and making her tea before helping her get ready for the graduation ceremony. She wore her white sundress with small cherries on it and red flats, and Meena convinced her to put a slick of red lipstick on. She didn’t feel particularly celebratory, but her dad wouldn’t want to her spending this day sad. Not after all her hard work.  
The ceremony came and went, and she’d never admit out loud she had been looking around the crowd for a familiar curly head. He didn’t seem to be there, and she felt oddly chagrined. He was an odd one, with some mysteriously impressive strings to pull. An efficient lab partner too. He’d help her, too, for some reason.  
It was later as she and Meena were leaving the pub that she saw him, standing outside smoking. She smelled cloves and with a slight blush remembered that moment months before. She signalled for Meena to go on ahead. He wore his usual black suit and dress shirt, looking far too posh for his own good.  
“Hooper,” he said, his way of greeting.  
“Holmes, I-i just wanted to say, thank you for what you did. I don’t want to know how you did it, and frankly your brother is a little intimidating, but I just...you didn’t have to do that. I know we haven’t liked each other really outside of the work, but I just...truly I’m grateful. I got there in time.”  
“But I do like you.”  
She blinked at him, taken aback.  
“W-what was that?”  
“You’re probably the smartest person in our class, after me, and you do good lab work. You’re...clever in a funny way and not a burden to be in the company of. And you never ask for anything. Why would I not like you? Isn’t liking someone just being able to tolerate them well?”  
He was the most brilliant man she knew, and right now the most daft.  
“I...thank you?”  
“And I’m sorry, for your loss. Truly.”  
She nodded.  
“I’m leaving next week. Going back to Richmond for a bit then medical school...sorry I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.”  
“Small talk isn’t your strong suit, Hooper.”  
She shook her head, shrugging.  
“Can’t win it all. What about you, then? You’re a graduate chemist after all. More school?”  
“Ugh, pass. Utterly useless to me, I’ll have to delete most of my time here. I was only here to appease Mycroft, anyway. No, I’ll likely go home for a bit. Maybe take up the violin. Who knows.”  
“Ever think about solving crime?”  
He choked on his smoke, coughing.  
“I mean, it’s safer than getting high to keep from being bored.”  
He stilled, raising an eyebrow.  
“How did you…”  
“Five days a week for over four months. It took me longer, but I guess I’ve caught up a bit.”  
“Molly Hooper…” he began, her name drawled out. Whatever he seemed like he was going to say, he changed his mind about. But he said her name almost like admiration. Their conversation seemed basically over. This was probably the last time she’d see him. Oh, she’d remember him, she was sure, but it was unlikely they’d meet again. Hopefully he did something productive with himself. He was too sharp and too...whatever he was for her to read about him in the obituaries or worse, come across her eventual slab.  
“Well, I’m off then. Goodnight, Holmes.”  
“Night then, Hooper.”  
She gave a wave of her fingers and turned to walk away. The orange overcast and the lights seemed so lovely tonight. Maybe it was her strange mood, maybe the finality of her time in Scotland, and the idea that she’d never see him again, but Molly found herself turning around.  
“Sherlock.”  
His first name, the first time she’d ever called him by it. A soft whisper, really. He looked down at her curious for a moment before she reached for the lapels of his jacket and stood up on her toes to press her lips against his, like she had months ago inside the very pub they stood outside of, this time more gently. His lips moved briefly under hers, as if he understood her intentions. It wasn’t meant to be romantic, per se, or anything loaded with expectations. He was emotionally constipated, as Meena said, but Molly wasn’t. She felt, openly, and this was how she wanted it to end, for some reason even she didn’t entirely understand.  
It wasn’t like it was love or anything.  
No, that would come many years later in another lab in London, at least on her end.  
But for now it was 2000, the world had not actually ended, and the future was wide and unknown for the girl who’d one day be a brilliant pathologist at St. Bart’s Hospital.  
And even if she thought, then, she’d never see Sherlock Holmes again, the universe had other ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> So Uni!lock. Why Edinburgh? Chosen for selfish reasons, really. I lived there one August a decade ago and fell quite in love with the city. I figured Sherlock probably did even more in his youth to make Mycroft's brow furrow, so an exile to go to school seemed likely. Molly's flat is based on the flat I lived in, and the pub is based on an actual pub- Doctors on Forrest Road right across the School of Medicine. I was kinder to Molly and left the actual rat out of the equation that was our little roommate, unwanted at that.  
> I'm sure I likely got some academic details here wrong, as I've never gone through the UK system, but I figured chemistry was a safe bet for them to meet over.  
> And if Molly seems...less stuttery around our Holmes, consider it a preview of Molly post Series 2 and what a Molly in grad school running on little sleep might be like. ;)


End file.
